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1^ 1 1 




OLIVER ALLSTORM 



Leisure Moments 



OF A 



Traveling Man 



By OLIVER ALLSTORM 

author of 
CHORDS FROM A STRANGE LYRE, ETC. 



TEXAS 



PUBLISHED BY 

J. T. DUNCAN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

LA GRANGE, TEXAS 
PRICE, POSTPAID, $1.15 



r 



5 3 



COPYRIGHT BY 

OLIVER ALLSTORM 
191 I 









WP" 8 t! 



CONTENTS 



The Way They Laugh in Texas 7 

A Dollar and a Penny 9 

The Bull Fight 11 

On the Streets of the City 15 

The Pessimist 17 

The Scarecrow 18 

Just a Mosquito 20 

The Ranchman and the Stranger 22 

Wild Oats 25 

The Daughter 26 

The Gossip 28 

My Own Neighborhood 29 

Little Sister 30 

Such Stuff as Lc ve 32 

A Dream of Other Days 34 

Another One 36 

The Leading Lady 38 

Saraphal 40 

A Drama 41 

The Bachelor 42 

A Red-Headed Boy 43 

The Cackling Hen 44 

Man, Dog and Loaf of Bread 45 

The Widow 47 

Wedding Bells 49 

To the Sender of an Anonymous Post Card 50 

Love Is Like a Truant Child 51 

The Golden Rod 52 

To a Withered Morning-Glory 53 

A P"'our-Leaf Clover 54 

"He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not" 55 

To a Forget-Me-Not 56 

A Day in June 57 

Heart Whole and Fancy Free 58 

Perhaps 59 

We Have Not Met as Lovers Meet 60 

My Love for Thee 61 

Thy Love for Me 62 

When the Dream is Ended 63 

The Exception 64 

When This Day Comes Again 65 

Dear Love, I Believe 66 

Midnight Tide' 67 

The Rich Man's Dream 68 



Speak Kindly cf the Absent One 69 

Long Ago and Once Again 70 

I Wculd Rest Me in tlie Liglit 71 

The Way to Do It 72 

Get Right With God 73 

Violets 74 

Floweret of Blushes 75 

The Penalties 76 

Ring Out the Old, Ring in the New 77 

The Silver Tombigbee 78 

Absence 79 

Twilight Dream 80 

The Shepherdess 81 

Away, Fond Heart 82 

She Is Lost to You, Forever 83 

We May Never Meet Again 84 

Love of My Love 85 

Ultra Mundane 86 

The Conspirators 87 

The Yoke of Burdens 88 

Why Dcth Love Move 89 

How Strangely Sad I Feel Tonight 90 

I Know That It Is Wrong, This Wish 91 

Lullaby of a Dying Mother 92 

O, to Be Perfectly Sure 93 

On the Iroquois Theatre Reopening 94 

"Whiskey, That's All" 95 

"Ladies' Entrance" 96 

"Workingmen's Exchange" 97 

A Famous City 98 

Zion City Fifty Years From Now 99 

O, Blasphemy 100 

The Liar 101 



I WOULD rather have ten men in the 
ordinary walks of life praise my lit- 
tle song, clip it from the files and pre- 
serve it, and at the same time have one 
critic condemn it, than have one critic 
praise it as a gem, laud it for its beauty, 
while ten men lay it aside because they 
do not undestand it. 



THE WAY THEY LAUGH IN TEXAS. 

Oh, a joy is near 

When a sonnd we hear 
That tells of mirth exploding — 

An abnndant store 

Of a jolly roar, 
A glad heart that's unloading. 
Then it 's ha, ha, ha, and it 's ho, ho, ho, 
And a he, he, he, of laughter ; 

For the way is bright 

When the laugh is right, 
AVith a '^wh-eeee" that follows after. 

Oh, a frown takes wing 

When the heart-bells ring 
And send their echoes soaring; 

And the sad souls rise 

To the merry skies 
AVhen Glorydom is roaring. 
Then it's ha, ha, ha, and it's ho, ho, ho, 
And a he, he, he, of laughter ; 

Oh, the wave is sweet, 

For it's so complete. 
With its 'Svh-eeee" that follows after. 

Oh, the skies are blue 

Where the laugh is true, 
And hills are green amazing; 

And the crops all blaze 

With a song of praise 
While all our sheep are grazing. 
Then it's ha, ha, ha, and it's ho, ho, ho. 
And a he, he, he, of laughter; 

Where under the sun 

Is the roar outdone 
With its "wh-eeee" that follows after? 



LEISURE MOMENTS OF 

Are you down and out 

With a fear and doubt 
That keeps your sniih^ a-hiding? 

Climb over the rail 

To the endless trail 
Where Texas winds are riding. 
For it's ha, ha, ha, and it's ho. ho, ho, 
And a he, he, he, of laughter. 

(jod gave us a staff 

To support our laugh. 
It's the "wh-eeee" that follows after. 



A TRxVVELING MAN 



A DOLLAR AND A PENNY. 

Once a great big silver dollar 

In a great big boastful way. 
Told a little copper penny 

All his travels of a day. 
Told him how he very seldom 

Alingled with the poorer class; 
How society caressed him 

In their houses made of glass. 

And he stroked his l)row of silver 

Like a monarch in his pride, 
Like a vain, conceited woman 

Out ui)on her auto ride. 
"AVhy," he said, "you're but a. penny. 

And you never leave tlie town. 
Even children spurn and snub you 

When there's other coin aroun'. " 

Said the penny: "I salute you. 

And admit you're standing high, 
You have seen the things of beauty 

]\I(^n have envied much to buy. 
My sphere is among the lowly 

Where the evening prayer is said. 
Where the little ones are weeping 

And the hungry cry for bread. 

"I have helped, though just a little; 

Helped to make you what you are ; 
I can nuike or I can break you. 

Sure as pennies travel far; 
Without me you would be nothing; 

AVhy, you owe your life to me, 
While I'm whole and independent, 

And I'm certainlv more free. 



10 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 

"You may visit lordly castles, 

I have been there once or twice, 
Though you think I never travel — 

That I haven't got the price. 
Well, I 've been where you go seldom- 

That's to church — I go by rule 
And I'm seen where you were never- 

Every week at Sunday school." 



A TRAVELING MAN H 



THE BULL FIGHT. 

IMacid in the great arena, 

Like a statue made of clay, 
Close beside me sits a maiden 

In the bull ring, light and gay, 
And her hair falls like the shadows 

Of a day that's near complete, 
And her lips are set like rubies 

In a face divinely sweet. 

Now the bugle sound is calling. 

Comes the cuaderilla brave, 
iMarching in their regal splendor — 

See their flag in beauty wave! 
And the picador, advancing 

On a steed both blind and lame, 
Drinks the glory of his calling. 

Hears the shouting of his name. 

They are off— the bull— be ready! 

Plunge the pica — spear his hide ! 
Drive him off — the steed is falling ! 

See! the throng is horrified! 
Done the deed ; a thousand voices 

Rise, and wave a thousand hands; 
But the maiden, scarcely watching. 

Seems adrift in fairy lands. 

Is she tender, all in pity, 

A spectator for the fad? 
Just a frail, unwilling watcher. 

With a heart too full and sad? 
Half I wonder her remaining. 

She so angel-like, and small. 
Till I love her for the picture, 

Sweet and loveliest of all. 



12 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 

Sounds the bugle ; comes another 

Bull to fill the torture den ; 
Sure to fall, a martyr dying. 

Just to please the eyes of men ; 
Torture, spear, torment and gore him. 

Toreros, cuaderilla sweep — 
With your red manteletas waving. 

Plunge your banderilla deep. 

Mozos stand; the bull is weary; 

Odds outweigh, he hangs his head. 
Too confused to battle longer. 

All he sees is red, just red. 
Then the matador, advancing. 

Like a snake with lightning dart, 
Cuts the thread that we call living, 

Runs his sword straight to the heart. 

Cheer on cheer ! sombreros waving ! 

'Twas a master stroke indeed, 
AYild delight! Confusion clamors, 

Hulls were only made to bleed. 
"Little one," I then addressed her. 

But the bugle caught her ears; 
And a fire, expectant burning. 

Lit her eyes too gay for tears. 

Is she human, now I cpiestion. 

As another bull appears; 
Bleeding, raving, snorting, tearing 

Loosing fury pent for years. 
Hell will soon return the torture ; 

Dumb he speaks with neck and horn, 
In a language full of battle. 

With the eyes of flaming scorn. 

Hold, proud picador ! be watchful ! 
Grace with care, your daring deed! 



A TRAVELING MAN 13 

Turn about! Too late; he's goring 

In the belly of your steed ! 
Deep the prongs have run and guttered, 

Tearing flesh and spilling blood. 
God ! Good God ! the maid is clapping. 

Laughing at the crimson flood. 

Had a dove changed to a buzzard, 

Wild to tear a wounded bird? 
Had an angel changed to devil, 

Through the blood my eyes had blurred? 
All my soul cried out in anguish. 

For her beauty all had fled, 
And where once a lily blossomed 

Sat a monster — fiend instead. 

See! the horns with blood are dripping, 

]Maid of hades, there's delight! 
Blood alone could bring the blushes 

To your cheeks so strangely white. 
Late I loved you and adored you; 

Now I loath(' you and despise. 
If a look alone could strangle 

I would slay you w^ith my eyes. 

Once I thought that beauty sheltered 

Ev'ry impulse pity knew; 
Once I thought that even mercy 

Was divine in eyes of blue, 
Now ; ah, wave your red manteleta ! 

Flaunt its flame before my face! 
Teach me that no gentle spirit 

Ever comes within this place. 

Teach me; I am wild with frenzy; 

Wild with laughter and delight ; 
Wild with music; wild with slaughter; 

Wild with rapture in the fight. 



14 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 

AVIkm'c within this sea of pU^asure 
Is there room for pity's whiiiif 

Glory is at stake — shall mercy, 
Tears of mercy, maive it dim? 

No, 1 hear the mocking voices, 

And the maiden answers, No! 
Seems a specter — all this daring! 

There's a thrill in every blow! 
Picador, ride hard and bravely. 

Blood has made my being glad ; 
'T would be treason to l)e tender 

When my devil heart is mad. 

Twilight falls and shadows gather; 

Steed and bull find rest at last. 
Their poor limbs have stretched forever, 

And the ga.y crowd dwindles fast. 
Still I linger like a dreamer. 

Waked from some narcotic spell. 
Glad remorse and shame have found me. 

Adios! Oh, game of hell. 

Jaurez, Mexico. 



A TRAVELING MAN 15 



ON THE STREETS OF THE CITY. 

I stood upon the thoroughfare and heard the "Army" 
sing', 

And my thoughts went back to motlier like a hird 
upon the wing. 

I could see her in the moonlight there reclining in 
her chair. 

As I heard the "Army" singing, "^ly name in moth- 
er 's prayer. ' ' 

I could see her bending sweetly o'er the pillow where 

I Iny. 
For she seemed so much an angel when she taught 

me how to pray. 
I could feel her lips still l)urning as she kissed me for 

the night. 
Saying God would kei'}) her darling, when she took 

away the light. 

Years have passed and I have wandered like the sheep 

that go astray. 
Still I often think of mother and the old home far 

away ; 
And I almost feel forsaken when I see a strangm* 

frown, 
]>ut the "Army" sings. "Speak kindly to a man when 

he is down. " 

And they sing the old songs over that I once could 

sing with joy — 
"Jesus like a shepherd leads us," and "Where is my 

wand 'ring boy ? ' ' — 
Till I wonder if there's mercy, hope for me if T could 

dare 
Just to kneel with them a moment in "the blessed 

hour of prayer." 



16 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 

I am often heavy laden, weary of the empty strife, 
Till I feel that I am driftwood on the surg:ing waves 

of life; 
And perhaps there's truth in singing that 'Hhe lialf 

was never told," 
For the "Army" seems so certain of "Those suns'^r 

gates of gold." 

Even if I never glory in the presence of the King, 
Let me steal a little closer to the "Army" when 

they sing; 
For their songs bring dreams of mother and the 

things she taught to me 
When my life was full of sunshine, and my altar was 

her knee. 

Let me steal a little closer to the promise that I gave 
When in tenderness we bore her to the churchyard 

and the grave ; 
For if all her prayers are answered, God of heaven. 

1 nuist know, 
"Though my sins may be as scarlet, I shall be as 

white as snow. ' ' 



A TRAVELING MAN 17 



THE PESSIMIST. 

Does it pay ? 

I've asked it with the break of day. 
Does it pay to battle for the right? 
Does it pay to labor witli your might ? 
Does it pay to keep your garments white? 

Ah, does it pay ? 

Does it pay? 

I've sometimes heard a brother say. 
Does it pay to trust the friends we make? 
Does it pay to give and not to take? 
Does it pay to live for another's sake? 

Ah, does it pay ? 

Does it pay? 

I've asked it on life's rugged way. 
Does it pay to smile on the stormy main? 
Does it pay to try and to try again? 
Does it pay to pray when it looks in vain? 

Ah, does it pay? 

Does it pay? 

I've asked it of the lifeless elay. 
Does it pay to finish the work begun ? 
Does it pay to strive till the goal is won? 
Does it pay to live when the day is gone? 

Ah, does it pay? 

Does it pay? 

Ah, where is the soul that dares say nay? 
Does it pay? (this song is a common craze) 
Does it pay on earth or beyond the maze? 
Does it pay to know if anything pays — 

Ah, does it pay? 



18 I^EISITRE MOMENTS OF 



THE SCARECROW. 

A scarecrow stood in an open Held, 

And lie scai'cd all the crows away; 
They would flit and fly so closely by 

But would never alight and stay. 
And some wei'c (juite mean, and hungry and 
lean, 

For the desert beyond was wide; 
]^ut here where the wh(^at and the corn w(M'e 
sweet 

Was the big scarecrow beside. 

So the crows just fhnv. as crows will do. 

And starved in the fear of his I'each ; 
For the faintest gust that shook the dust 

Sent them all away with a screech. 
And the wheat and the corn just laughed with 
scorn 

At the birds that rather would die 
Than brave the old ghost on the hickory post 

AVhen the winds were swcH^ping by. 

ITow often in life we shun the strife 

For the coveted prize we seek; 
We shrink as from harm at each alarm. 
And we fear when the way looks bleak. 
While if we did right, and sought with our 
might 
Why failures so often surprise, 
AVe'd find all the mess that hinders success 
■' Is a, scarecrow in disguise 

He not like a crow, should an ill wind blow. 
Or a phantom of trouble appear: 

Just press to the goal though signals toll 
That danger is hovering near. 



A TRAVELING MAN 19 

Would you win, then dare, eouiit worry and 
care 
As specters that stand as your foe. 
And the road will be clear, if you count ev'ry 
fear 
As only an old scarecrow. 



20 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



JUST A MOSQUITO. 

There's not a lueaner thing alive 

Beneath the welkin blue 
Than a wild-west giant mosquito 

Out for a drink or two. 
His bold attack is fierce and strong, 

His temper's fiery red. 
His feet have claws both sharp and long. 

And horns are on his head; 
His eyes are like an X-ray wheel 

That see through walls of stone. 
His teeth are made of armor steel 

And reach down to the bone. 

No anguish is more great on earth. 

No torment worse in hell, 
Than these winged demons 'round the hearth 

Of each first-class hotel. 
You lie in bed imbued with hate, 

A towel in either hand. 
Determined to annihilate 

The whole mosquito band. 
The ''lotion" bought to kill them all 

To them is sweet perfume ; 
No odor can divert their gall 

Or drive them from your room. 

In joy they move and buzz and sing 

All through the torrid night ; 
The myriad swarms that prick and sting, 

With a supreme delight. 
You rave and tear and danni and swear 

And groan (it makes them glad) ; 
You sweat and pull your shaggy hair 

Like one who's going mad. 



A TRAVELING MAN 21 

You feel the blood upon your face 
Of those sweet songsters slain ; 

Then all exhausted say your grace 
And try to sleep again. 

But lo — the charge is just begun — 

A legion now appears; 
The cru'l, persistent, vicious gun. 

Again unnerves your ears. 
They win the fight. Ah, such is fate ! 

The clock is striking five. 
All night you've been mosquito bait — 

Thank God, you're still alive. 
that some power could slay and glean 

This pestilence that vexes. 
From off the hills God made so green 

Away down South in Texas. 



22 LELSL'RE MOMENTS OF 



THE RANCHMAN AND THE STRANGER. 

The Rniichinan sighed. "See yonder oxeii-freig'ht 
Wind sh)vvly o'er the phiins; they come like fate 
To fence the traekh^ss waste of freedom's soil. 
To tnrn the grass, to till, to sow and toil: 
They come like vnltnres feeding on my plains. 
My plains that know me, dear old rolling plains; 
My plains, eternal plains, bonndless and free. 
Wild and as tame as I wish them to be. 

"See how they stretch afar, just as they should, 
Feeding a mighty herd — just as God would. 
There's scarce a structure here, breaking the view; 
Only the skies so deep, tend( r and blue. 
When first I tarried here, years, years ago. 
Here I'oamed the wild coyote, here the buffalo; 
l^inirs here were plentiful, game was a i)est. 
I^ut life was like a dream— out in the West. 

"Stranger, these grassy hills all know my voice; 
No echo comes bnt mine, mine is their choice; 
My broncho here and me. swift as a bird. 
Had times together — times you've never heard. 
Lasso, and just a gun — where is such sport. 
Like's found on the range of the endless sort? 
J^nt times have changed now. the caravan train 
Has worn a dee^) road right over the plain; 

"And still they are coming, an army and one. 
Tearing the roots from the trees 1 have won ; 
Trees that are mine, man, by right of my love ! 
liy heaven, I swear — by the stars above! 
They are turning grass for hope of the seed. 
And ])low and plant with a desperate greed. 
I have watched them long, and I groan within. 
As the stakes are set bv the ones who win. 



A TRAVELING MAN -io 

"There is no West now, for the range is s[)lit. 
And the camp fire's k)w, and the lamps ai'e lit. 
An acre or two gives to many tlieir bread, 
J3ut a million for me or my soul is dead. 
Stranger, it's hard to be fenced like a beast. 
To know that the West will be like the East. 
With numberless people crowding for room. 
To know that sweet nature is robbed of its bloom; 

"It's hard, 0. it's hard, I'll never grow tame. 
But long for the wilds I knew when I came. 
I reckon, somewhere, over mountain and sea. 
A range still unfenced is now waiting for me; 
A range where my broncho, with me on his back. 
May ride in the solitude, leaving no track. 
Riding at random and wishing no guide. 
Just charging alone on the Great Divide." 

The stranger smiled, and answered with a voice 

That echoed from the East, Rejoice ! Rejoice ! 

A million tongues seemed breaking from his throat — 

"Ranchman and friend, I love these hills remote; 

But love far more my brothers who are pent 

In narrow rooms, foul with a nuisty scent. 

Who languish in dense aisles, where breeds disease 

And germs abound. Ah, yes, I love your breeze; 

'M love your rolling plains, and soft blue skies; 
But love far more, the tender babe that lies. 
Within its little crib — whose pure sweet' breath 
Inhales the city smoke — the seeds of death. 
I love each blade of grass, each flow'r that grows; 
Would love them more, if ev'ry wind that blows 
Could kiss the one who never knew delight 
Found on the hills so fragrant and so white. 

"I would enjoy them more, if ev'ry child 

Could share my joy, could romp, as free and wild. 



24 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 

Just now, as we two may. God never meant 
That you should lord the range where Nature spent 
Its most delightful hour. Think of the mass, 
Who scarcely ever see a blade of grass; 
Think of the multitudes that crowd for room. 
Who never saw a bluebell when in bloom, 

"Who never felt the south wind's tender kiss 
And never dream there is a world like this, 
Who only know the space in which they roam 
And call four walls, some smoke, and soot their home: 
Who only see a nation's bustling mart 
And feel its curses pressing 'gainst the heart. 
No, Ranchman, no, the West is great and wide 
And still has room for them, and you beside. 

"Welcome them in — these acres here alone 
Are worthless, save that they are all your own. 
Aye, call the weary in, help men to know, 
Here is a paradise where hope may grow. 
Where heaven may be found in boundless space 
Right here on earth, right here upon your place. 
W^ithin the range you love, and gold will rise 
From ev'r}^ grain of sand before your eyes. 

''Then for your sake, I hope, and trust, and pray. 
Somewhere beyond the realm of night and day 
A range unfenced is spread, all fresh and green. 
Where spirit footprints never yet were seen ; 
Where even echoes die, beyond God's trail, 
Where spirit-wings turn back, and droop and fail — 
There in that wilderness, so deep and wide ; 
May distance mock your dreams, till you are 
satisfied." 



A TRAVELING MAN 25 



WILD OATS. 

Sow your wild oats, my boy, and plow the furrows 

deep, 
But bear in mind "whatever you sow, that shall you 

also reap." 
One crop never is enough, so plant a little grain, 
And 3^ou may have a reaping chance in case it should 

not rain. 

Sow your wild oats, my boy, for they were made to 
grow; 

They help to make a larger crop when winds of 
Autumn blow. 

One crop never is enough to keep the wolf away, 

So work the rust from off the hoe. and keep on mak- 
ing hay. 

Sow your wild oats, my boy, when you are off the 

farm, 
A little more experience can scarcely do you harm. 
One joy never is enough, for knowledge still is sweet ; 
What wrong you learn, may keep you right, and steer 

you from defeat. 

Sow your wild oats, my boy, if you can stand the test, 
'Twill teach you to appreciate the narrow path is best. 
One tear never is enough to save the soul that cries : 
It takes a sinner's contrite heart to hope for Paradise. 



26 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



THE DAUGHTER. 



Thoirrt but a grain of human sand. 

Borne on the ship called Earth. The ocean 'round 

Of ether hath no port nor harbor save 

The darkness of her past, and that before. 

We conu' like meteors; a flash, a spark. 

And lethe fills our place. From whence we come 

We know not, neither whither do we go. 

Time here seems long; but. measured by all time. 

A drop as from a cloud into the sea. 

The space between for airy joyfulness; 

A dewdrop kissed and rising to the sun. 

With hope alive, but, blushing, disappears. 

We come as strangers to the walks of life; 

A moment meet, and then oblivion ; 

A moment light of foot, a dance for joy, 

A sound for mirth, then through the exit pass. 

A moment striving here, a tear, a sob. 

And footfalls sounding low upon the floor. 

The journey must be made, and why be made? 

Consulted not, forth issued into life. 

Forced through the active aisle, the body bends 

Like a dark cloud afloat in empty skies ; 

The body yields, and Nature laughs aloud. 

So much for bones that wind may sweep away. 

We come as pilgrims, voyagers at sea. 
Adrift and nowhere bound, save for the soul — 
The soul, our anchor to a hope divine. 
Whether the bar be true, or myth, or song ; 
Whether there be a life in the beyond ; 
Whether or no the hope is sweet the while 
And giveth balm. Wildly the storm may blow, 
And penury may gnaw the naked bone; 
Friends may desert and foes may bitter me ; 



A TRAVELING MAN Zi 

Sorrow may triumph on. sun may grow dim ; 
Jjife may be death to live; but hope in death. 
Door to all happiness, faith, peace sublime, 
Kisses the eyelids when man falls asleep. 

We eome. and you hav(^ eome to me, my ehild, 
As welcome as the breath my life holds dear. 
I owe you much, and you owe naught to me; 
I owe you means by which your tender soul 
May bask in sunlight of a wider sphere 
Than I have known. Live, then, your little day 
As if each evening's close might be the last. 
The journey is not long; take, then, my hand. 
And give me love, for all I ask is love; 
]\rore would I give if it were ])ossible. 
Work is a blessing, child, and prayer is sweet ; 
Life is a great success where these two meet. 



28 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



THE GOSSIP. 



She speaks, and yet says nothing; that's the way 
Miss Gossip finds her joys from day to day. 
To thwart good will and vex all harmony 
Is her delight. No song in enphony 
Comes from her lips, for discord is her theme, 
Though quite magniloquent her words do seem. 

No doubt you all have met her, so concerned 
And so precise; some story newly learned 
Soon fills your ears; her interest is great, 
No learned sage could such a tale relate. 
Her speech, all magnified, assumes a tone 
Of sympathy, though truly not her own. 
Tier one delight is just to carry tales; 
To harp on trifling things. The social scales 
Needs nmst admit this driv'ler, or perchance 
Their indolence might kill their eloquence. 

'Tis sad, that where vast wealth may find a feast 
Such empty heads are found, to name the least 
Of all their sins. They welcome gossip's shell 
As some fair bride would hear her wedding bell; 
Or as some pilgrim lost, whose silent ears 
Yearn some familiar sound, such their desire. 
One well might think, among the conunon herd 
And not in fashion's throng, the gossip's word 
Would feed the flame, since there we look for store 
Of better things, but, no, they talk the more. 

O, giddy head, O, twaddling, gabbling tongue, 
Have you no nobler song that nmy be sung? 
Are there no wounds to lu^al, no hearts to cheer, 
That you should gad about from ear to ear? 
Pray for some sweeter task — for silent might, 
For busy hands that earn a restful night. 



A TRAVELING MAN 



29 



Learn from the past how "peace hath victory;" 
How milder winds can cahn a raging sea. 
Seal then thy lips, O Gossip, be discreet ; 
Contentment 's found where work and silence meet. 



MY OWN NEIGHBORHOOD. 

When I am out at night alone 

On some outlying street, 
Strange fancies seem to come to me 

Of forms I fear to meet ; 
I grope my way with cautious step 

As ev'ry alien should. 
For somehow, I don 't feel as safe, 

As in my neighborhood. 

Although the street on which I live 

Is very dark and long. 
And shadows seem to move about 

As if to do some wrong; 
I feel quite safe, for every house 

Just seems to do me good; 
They stand like guardian- sentinels 

In my own neighborhood. 

No matter where on earth I go. 

No matter where I be, 
I'm always kind of timid-like 

Suspecting things I see; 
But place me with familiar scenes, 

Where long our cottage stood. 
And I will brave the darkest night. 

In mv own nt^ghborhood. 



30 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



LITTLE SISTER. 

We've been waiting, little sister, ever since you went 

away. 
Waiting for your steps familiar and your laughtei 

sweet and gay. 
We've been waiting, I and mother, through each long 

and dreary night. 
Waiting here beside the window where the lamp is 

burning bright. 

We've been watchful; not a cricket moves the silence 

so intense ; 
But our hearts, aroused, grow eager, fearful in the 

cru'l .suspense ; 
Not a thing that moves escapes us, and, though all 

the world's asleep. 
We are sentinels together, watching as we pray and 

weep. 

We've been hopeful, not believing that you left us 

here alone 
So abruptly without sighing that the fault was not 

your own, 
Leaning on another's promise. Could we question, 

could we blame. 
When our hearts cry out in anguish that we love you 

just the same? 

We've been waiting, little sister, mindful of the golden 

past. 
When your laugh was like the music of a song too 

sweet to last. 
I remember how you nursed me while upon my bed 

of pain. 
And I long to feel your fingers on my forehead once 

again. 



A TRAVELING MAN 31 

We've been longing, little sister, for the songs you 

used to sing. 
For the sunshine of your presence and the cheer that 

you could bring. 
We've been sitting here so silent as we view your 

vacant chair. 
And the bureau with the inirror, where you stood to 

comb your hair. 

We've been weeping, little sister, tears that think of 

shanu^ and sin. 
For life's i)itfalls are so many — (lod, if you should 

stumble in ! 
Who is there that's safe from falling, that our hearts 

should be at rest 
When we know not if you're homeless when the sun 

sinks in the w(^st? 

We've l)een waiting, little sister, witli a welcome that 

shall burn 
Till the light of love shall find you and your tired 

feet return. 
AVhat though all your dreams are shattered? Sin and 

shame shall not divide 
Those of us within the shelter from the weary one 

outside. 



32 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



SUCH STUFF AS LOVE. 

Mabel's husband, he is manly 

Strong and brave as man can be; 
Loves his wife unto distraction, 

Gives her quite a handsome fee; 
He's g-entle to her wish and fancy, 

Watchful o'er her every whim. 
But she scarcely knows her blessing. 

Hardly cares to notice him. 
Mabel's husband gives her pleasure. 

Ease and comfort, without care; 
Costly gowns that make her foolish 

On the great wide thoroughfare; 
Vain, conceited, just the model 

For the fashion's latest craze, 
But her soul is dead like ashes 

To her husband's love and praise 
Still he loves her, and adores her, 

AVorships blindly at her shrine ; 
Drinks the nectar, which is water. 

Though he sweetly thinks it wine : 
This is just such stuff as love is. 

Life is just such stuff as love. 



A TRAVELING MAN 83 

Phoebe's husband, he is shiftless, 

Worthless to a marked degree : 
Drinks till drunk of blended liquor ; 

Sober, never cares to be ; 
Vile and filthy, loose in morals, 

Both profane and foul of speech ; 
Never toils to earn a penny, 

Though the job is in his reach. 
Cru'l at times, he strikes her often. 

Strikes her full a coward's blow; 
Often draws the blood that loves him, 

Many scars can Phoebe show ; 
Phoebe still clings sweetly to him, 

Toils and labors for his bread 
While he loafs, she plies the needle 

Till her eyes grow dim and red ; 
Still she loves him, hoping, praying, 

Looking forward to the years 
When his love again will blossom, 

Watered by her many tears, 
This is just such stuff as love is ; 

Life is just such stuff as love. 



34 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

Lo, after all these years, 
Lo, after all these tears, 

Still I dream on. 
Not while the day is bright, 
But in the darkest night. 

Hid from the snn. 

While all but life is dead 
And dreams are life instead, 

Which onee was real. 
Last night you came to me 
As if my eyes could see 

And hands could feel. 

You came as in the past 
With arms that clung as fast 

Over my neck, 
Just as you did of yore, 
Only you kissed me more, 

As from a wreck. 

Absence may heal the heart, 
Some say it doth impart 

Balm to the wound. 
If so, why nuist I yearn — 
Longing for your n^turn 

On airy ground ? 

Are dreams akin to life, 
Part of its joy and strife, 

Living the truth ; 

Calling from out its tomb 
Mistakes that merit doom 

Of careless youth? 



A TRAVELING MAN 35 

Ouce yon wow like a flower, 
Joy of a fleeting honr, 

Unto my sonl. 
Heaven eonld not have told 
In those sweet days of old 

Of my true goal. 

I would have eiirsed the god 
Even that blessed the sod 

Where I was born, 
Had he but dared to say 
You should be borne away, 

From me be torn. 

Now you're another's bride; 
I have one by my side. 

Faithful to me. 
Thus did we drift apart, • 
I^odies, but not in heart 

Was it to be ? 

Was it to be as now? 
Dreams should cement the vow 

Broken in twain. 
Does life 's most sacred chord 
Sound on the broken board 

In dreams again? 

Tell me, when vespers fall, 
And all our vigils call 

Only for rest. 
Do you, as I have done. 
Think of another one 

Who once was best? 



36 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



ANOTHER ONE. 

Since you have passed beyond the sun, 
Somehow, two worlds seem quite undone, 

One world of which I dream at night 
Seems like a city filled with light. 

The other world, how well I know. 
Its cruel sting, its bitter woe. 

We were as mingled drops of rain ; 
Storms crashed, and we were rent in twain. 

Perhaps just now you wait for me, 
With bark upon that shoreless sea ; 

Or still perchance you do not know 
How often I have longed to go. 

Our worlds are incomplete — unless 
Your world has other lips to press. 

Then only one — my world — is dark. 
With missing oar and shattered bark. 

I watch, I w^ait, I hope, I yearn. 

With mad, sweet dreams for love's return. 

And if love comes not once again 
Then shall my days be spent in vain. 

Shall sun and moon, and stars still shine. 
And never more a heart be mine? 

Shall daisies bloom, and zephyrs blow. 
And all my days be filled with snow? 



A TRAVELING MAN Si 

Shall lovers mock with love's refrain, 
And I, I never love again ? 

If so, I would not live a da}^ 

Should k^ve not come again my way. 

vStill, I would leave this world tonight 
If I could join you in the Light. 

Or could you come to me from There 
I would not dream of one more fair. 

I only long for one sweet face, 
One heart to take your empty place, 

Shall it be filled, ere I have done 
With dreams of such Another One? 



88 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



THE LEADING LADY. 

Twilight is the hour for dreainiiig, and if half the 

moon is bright, 
You can trace a little pathway both to sorrow and 

delight. 
You may wander through a forest where the branch 

has felt the blast, 
Where the leaves you crush will murmur, "There is 

nothing that will last. ' ' 

And above this hallowed forest, where the skies are 

deep and wide, 
I can see a mirage floating as a cloud beyond the tide; 
And the fairest picture moving is of one 1 never knew. 
But I know her hair is golden and I think her eyes are 

blue. 

I can see her standing sweetly in a wonder-singing 

choir. 
Just as when her living presence caught the flame of 

my desire ; 
And her voice that was like music from an instrument 

divine 
Seems again to come a-stealing round this lonely heart 

of mine. 

1 can feel her eyes so kindly looking somewhere close 
to me. 

Just as if the gates of heaven let ten thousand bless- 
ings free ; 

And the only sorrow sighing on the zephyrs, soft and 
low, 

Is the thought that I am dreaming and that she may 
never know. 



A TRAVELING MAN 39 

She may never know I'm dreaming, never know how 

I may drink 
Unmolested at love 's fountain here at memory 's sweet 

brink ; 
I may kiss her lips and relish all the sweets as mine 

alone, 
For I am my own Belaseo, and the stage is all my own. 

I am sculptor of my visions, and my characters obe}^ ; 

I assign each role for acting, for I manage all the 
play ; 

And I make her leading lady, though perhaps my crit- 
ics deem 

There would l)e another story were it other than a 
dream. 

Darkness falls as if a curtain fell from somewhere up 
on high. 

And her image seems to vanish somewhere in the west- 
ern sky. 

Somewhere near the place we parted, where alone our 
glances met, 

And I sigh: ''Will she remember, or in sighs must 1 
forget?" 



40 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



SARAPHAL. 

There is a harp whose tranquil string 

Touched by the hand of one, 
Can like the twilight zephyrs bring 

Sweet peace when day is done ; 
And there 's a voice whose music sweet 

Attends this harp of mine, 
Whose notes outlive the echoes fleet — 

And love, that voice is thine. 

There is a brow whose temples form 

The archway to the soul. 
Can, like the sunbeams in a storm, 

Make clouds of sorrow roll ; 
And there's an eye whose azure hue 

Affords me light divine, 
Whose gaze is ever fond and true — 

And, love, that eye is thine. 

There is a form whose matchless grace 

Might well adorn a queen, 
Can, like the fairies, charm the place 

Wherever it is seen ; 
And there's a soul whose hopes arise 

Above life's terrene brine, 
Whose light has made my paradise — 

And. love, that soul is thine. 



A TRAVELING MAN 41 

A DRAMA. 

(The Curtain Rises.) 

The play was welcomed by a throng 
That came to hear the lover's song. 
I was there, and heard sweet wooing, 
Such as some think, ends with rueing — 
Others, death knows no undoing 

Of such love divinely white. 
Tenderly he kissed her, sighing, 
Nothing to her soul denying 
All her wants of life supplying. 

Even to the portals bright, 

Ay, unto the Gates of Light. 

(The Curtain Falls.) 
Our hotel was deep in slumber 
Save these actors of our number 
]\Ian and wife, I heard them raving — 
He, with curses misbehaving. 
She, with jeers of anger, braving 

Ev'ry cruel blow that fell 
]\Iadly I could hear him slamming 
Her whose love lay but in shamming 
And they both agreed in damning 

One another down to Hell, 

Ay, unto the depths of Hell. 



42 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



THE BACHELOR. 

Nothing to work for but silver and gold. 
One roof to shelter me in from the cold. 
One chair to cuddle in when shadows fall. 
One little lowly cot, one, that is all. 

No one to work for to sweeten the strife. 
No little home to keep, no little wife. 
No babe to run to me when day is done. 
No one to welcome me under the sun. 

No one to live for; the days drag along, 
Life seems monotonous, void of all song. 
Sadly I sit and dream old and alone. 
Silent I envy those loving their own. 

Nothing to work for. Ah, youth that is fled — 
Love, that was mine to give lies with the dead. 
I cherish naught of worth here among men. 
Living the vain regret — "What might have 
been." 



A TRAVELING MAN 43 



A RED-HEADED BOY. 

Only a red-headed boy. with freckles on his face. 

And two bare feet of tan, 
l^ut the world must employ, and give him a place, 

When he grows to be a man. 

Only a child of the poor, just a slip of a lad, 

A thing to jostle aside. 
But. his heart is as pure as his days are glad, 

And the whole world is so wide. 

Only a child of the street, but his future may lie 

In the marts of wealth and fame. 
And his two little feet may climb very high. 

Till nu^n shall exalt his name. 

Only a red-headed boy. with freckles on his face, 

But he has a place to fill. 
He may some day employ and give you a place, 

AA^hen you meet him over the hill. 



44 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



THE CACKLING HEN. 

It 's the cackling hen that lays the egg ; 

To the farmer the cackle 's a song ; 
No sweet-singing thrush that flies through the 
brush 

Detains him to listen so long. 
''An egg in the nest" — that song is the best, 

However discordant the lay ; 
So live, little hen, lay daily, and then 

Just cackle your glory away. 

The cackling hen; oh, the cackling hen, 

Had a sister that posed as a belle ; 
And though she would lay an egg by the way, 

She never would cackle and tell. 
Her eggs, seldom founci. decayed on the ground, 

While she was out prancing in pride; 
So the farmer got "red," and wrung off her 
head, 

And ordered that she should be fried. 

The cackling hen ; oh, the cackling hen. 

Saw her sister lie cold in her shame ; 
She pitied her there, so young and so fair — 

Still, who but herself was to blame? 
That night on a limb she looked mighty prim, 

And gazing out into the skies. 
She felt doubly sure her life was secure. 

Just as long as she'd advertise. 



A TRAVELING :MAX "to 



MAN, DOG AND LOAF OF BREAD. 

Once a poor man, old and hungry. 

Trudging through the storm and sleet. 
Saw an old and rusty niekle 

Lying there upon the street. 
And he picked it up with gladness, 

Dreaming of a banquet spread 
That would feast him in the purchase 

Of a needful loaf of bread. 

And he hied him to the baker. 

Where the cakes and buns are rc^al, 
AVhere the smell is so delicious 

That it almost makes a meal. 
There he stood a moment, sighing, 

Hardly knowing how to buy. 
But lie got the joy he sought for. 

Though 'twas but a loaf of rye. 

And he hugged it to his bosom 

Just as though 'twere made of gold — 
And in truth 'twas more than luci-e 

To the starving man, and cold. 
So his grateful hands were lifted 

In a thankful prayer that fled 
To the throne that's built in heaven. 

Hut he dropped his loaf of bread. 

Tlien a dog, a yellow mongrel 

Starving with the low and base. 
Stole the bread that Nature told him 

Soon would fill the empty place ; 
And the old man, bent and feeble, 

AViped away a straggling tear. 
As he saw his manna flying. 

And his banquet disappear. 



46 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 

For a moment auger moved him ; 

Wild he raved in blaming sin : 
Then a smile crept like a sunbeam 

O'er his features, wan and thin, 
' ' Go, poor dog', you 're welcome to it ; 

I would not deny your mite ; 
Though 3^ou 've got the bread I 'm craving. 

Still I've got my appetite." 



A TRAVELING MAN 47 



THE WIDOW. 

A Avidow lives next door to me, 

Who is a social wonder; 
She's fort3^-five, if twenty-three, 

With love galore to squander. 
She often calls me in to dine 

And blushes in a flurry. 
Lest I with great respect decline 

With thanks — "I'm in a hurry." 

Her name is Mrs. So-and-So, — 

1 11 not divulge the donor, — 
For he is resting meek and low 

AVhile she refutes his honor. 
''Well, be it as it be." one day, 

She whispered soft and tender : 
"Now. i\Ir. Sir. just call me May, 

My maiden name, remember." 

Much have I read, and still shall read. 

Of widows fair and forty. 
But never dreamed it was decreed 

That one should ever court me. 
Now, all ye men whose hearts are free. 

Come look upon my sorrow ; 
For she has sworn to marry me, 

And names the day tomorrow. 

I 'm but a child compared to her — 

And children are exacting. 
Already gossip is a-stir 

Of how we have been acting. 
'Tis true that T have held her hand 

AAHien with her in her carriage : 
But what within the laws command 

Has that to do with marriage? 



4S LEISURE MOMENTS OF 

I'm single, and I wish to be 

Until I bear inspection 
By someone suitable for me. 

One void of all deception. 
This widow offers land and gold. 

And freedom born of leisure; 
But she has not the price I hold. 

Sweet youth, life's dearest treasure. 

Now, all ye men who < rj;ve a mate 

Of matchless mien and beauty, 
I pray you help me from my fate — 

It is your manly fiuty. 
For now I feel in my heart's core 

Unless this help you do me, 
This widow living here next door 

Is surely going to sue me. 



A TRAVELING MAN 4y 



WEDDING BELLS. 

Do you hear those bells, O'Reily'^ 
List how sweet their melody ; 

They repeat the tunes o' blessing, 
Tunes that are so dear to me. 

]3o you know those bells, O 'Reily, 
Sound the same as long ago ? 

Only now their notes sink deeper. 
Somewhat like a. song of woe. 

For you know, don't ye, O'Reily, 
How my heart long years ago, 

AVith my Mary's was united 
For the good priest made it so. 

On that moonlight night, O'Reily. 

As beside that bride o' mine. 
These same bells rang out the story 

And my glory seemed divine. 

And when now. just now, O'Reily, 
As I hear those sweet bells ring. 

They bring baek the heart o' Mary 
In lier grave a-mouldering. 

Wedding bells, sweet bells, O'Reily. 

Lord, how sweet their melody ! 
Ringing out another's blessing 

Opening a wound for me. 



50 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 

TO THE SENDER OF AN ANONYMOUS 
POST CARD. 

1 know not if yonr raiment's like 

The one that I nmst wear; 
I know not whether you must shave, 

Or if your cheeks are fair ; 
I know not if we two have met 

In business, or in pleasure ; 
But this I know, your little card 

Shall always be a treasure. 

I know not if you wear a rat. 

Or if you are bald-headed ; 
I know not if you're lean or fat. 

Divorced, or still un wedded; 
I know not if you know my verse 

Alternate falls in meter; 
lUit this 1 know, your little card 

Could scarcc^Iy strike me sweeter. 

1 know not if you must be taught, 

Or if you are a teacher ; 
I only know by what you write 

You are some living" creature. 
I know not. but I hope and pray 

Your eyes are blue as heaven. 
And that your hair is like the hue 

Of sun])eams eastward driven. 

I know not if you know at all 

AVhat some immortals think 
Of those who fail to sign their name 

When they are using ink. 
Not so with me ; I would not wake 

From dreams with rapture laden ; 
Sweet little card, I'd hate to know 

You came not from a maiden. 



A traveli>;g man 51 



LOVE IS LIKE A TRUANT CHILD. 

Love is like a truant child : 
Absence only makes him wild; 
Left alone, he takes to flying 
Where the gentle flowers are dying, 
Where their lonely souls are sighing 
On the quiet summer breeze ; 
And he stoops with kisses raining 
On their petals love he's feigning 
They know not his wondrous training — r 
How to fhittcr and to please. 

Love is like n tiiu'.nt child: 
Fond remembrance makes him mild: 
Thougli the lights of storm an* flashing 
And the rains in torrents dashing 
And the Minds with fury lashing, 
He dares face the journey grim 
Over hills and rivers roaring 
Wet his wings, but bent on soaring 
To the heart whose lips are pouring 
Songs in praises just for him. 



o2 l.EISL'KE MOMENTS OF 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 



"Thou art a bride, sweot flowor. '' 

A dying' soldier said. 
Speaking to a golden rod 

In its sunny bed. 
Gentle winds caressed his brow. 

And a dream of bliss — 
Touched his burning lips the whih 

AVitli a tender kiss. 

"Thou art a bride, sweet flower. 

To the flag I love. 
Let me kiss you as I pass 

To the realms above. 
Ere the sun shall sink tonight 

My soul shall be free ; 
And as they left no flag behind. 

Sweet flower. I turn to tht^e. 

"Tliou art a bride, sweet flower. 

Blushing maid of gold. 
Tell my comrads when they come 

All I should have told. 
Thou the martial shroud shall be 

For my wounded breast, 
When they find me here at morn. 

In eternal rest." 



A TRAX'ELING MAX Do 



TO A WITHERED MORNING-GLORY. 

Rainbow of the morning light. 

Wherefore shall I sue 
For thy love, whose noonday bloom 

Fades like wanton dew ? 
Hope may live while glory dies, 

This is life's refrain. 
Fear to fail not, gentle flower; 

Thy seed shall remain. 

Shadows of the setting sun. 

Ashes nothing more. 
AVhere is now the pomp of life. 

Once you gayly bore? 
Where the anthem of my soul 

Sung at blush of morn / 
Where, but on the raven 's wing 

From my bosom torn ? 

Then, good night, I too, must bend 

Unto nature 's law, 
Man. beast, bird and flower akin 

Hold her might in awe. 
Past and present, what are they, 

If the lark's sweet song 
But anmse from slumber deep 

Who have slept too long? 



54 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



A FOUR-LEAF CLOVER. 

"I've found a four-leaf elover, " 

Said a little child, 
Leaping, in her sweet surprise. 

O'er the fields so wild. 
' ' All the rest have only three, 

I have seen them grow 
White as daisies wlnni in bloom. 

Or like fallen snow. 

^^I've found a four-leaf elover; 

One, two, three and four. 
Dainty little leaves so green, 

Now I love you more. 
You shall bring sweet luek to me 

And my fears shall fly 
Like the dew before the sun 

On the hills so high." 

^'I, too, have found a elover. 

Sweet as in the past ; 
But the dream is not the same, 

Nor is hope as fast. 
Still, I pray thee, leap my child; 

Joy like thine forsooth. 
Is too precious to destroy 

With a pang of truth." 



A TRAVELING MAN 00 



HE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT." 

''He loves me, he loves me not," 

Sang a little maid, 
Blowing at a dandelion 

In the summer shade. 
Gentle winds caressed her brow. 

Birds sang overhead. 
And a busy bumblebee 

Heard the words she said. 

''He loves me, he loves me not — 

Ah ! still there are more. 
Green's the ivy on the tree, 

Low 's the wave on shore. 
Fly, ye white-winged fairs, fly, 

I have three to blow. 
Then upon the summer wind. 

E'en my soul will go." 

''He loves me — the stem is hare, 

Joy ! he's true to me ! 
Sweet's the peace within my heart. 

Calm's the wave at sea. 
Fly, yet white- winged fairs fly, 

Out into the West. 
Tell my sailor of your stem 

Pinned upon my breast." 



d6 LEISURE MOxMENTS <)E 



TO A FORGET-ME-NOT. 

JJttle blue Forget-.Me-Not, 

It is said of old 
You could guide the love-lorn heart 

Into Cupid's fold 
L(4 thy legend then tonight 

Still sustain its boast- 
Gentle flower, go speak to lier 

That I love the most. 

Little blue Forget-]\Ie-N()t, 

Flower I love the best. 
Let no great ehrysantheiuuni 

Chase you fioiu her breast. 
Find i\ plaee so near her heai't 

That eaeh beat may know 
You are some one in disguise: 

Then go, floweret, go ! 

Little blue Forget-iMe-Not, 

If for woe or weal. 
May the feast you give her eyes 

All my soul reveal. 
Go then, 'tis my heart's delight : 

Go then, 'tis my prayer; 
And may you find a resting plaen 

In her golden hair. 



A TRAVELING MAN D/ 



A DAY IN JUNE. 

Drowsy of an afternoon. 
Lulled into a lazy swoon. 
Halfway in the days of June — 

This is being tired. 
With what shade an orange tree 
Gives a gentle bird and me, 
And a book that still must be 

Only half desired. 

I would \vMk(\ l)ut eyelids close, 
Somewhat anxious for repose, 
Nodding like a thirsty i-ose 

In a desert lonely. 
Soft the winds just lull to sleep 
Til] T wander o'er the steep 
Craggy hills and oceans deep 

Of a dream-world only. 

Rock me till the sun is set; 
Let my weary hands forget 
There is that worth doing yet 

While the sun is shining; 
Though my slumber must be brief, 
Let it soothe awhile my grief, 
Just as rain unto a leaf 

On a branch repining. 



58 " LEISURE MO:VIENTS OF 



HEART WHOLE AND FANCY FREE 

There was a time before we met 

When life to me was gay, 
A¥hen I my sorrows could forget 

In pleasure's transient way. 
But that was ere my soul forbade 

The vows you made to me, 
And I was but a careless maid, 

"Heart whole and fancy free." 

Refrain — 

Oh, for a day whose sun could set. 

As in the golden past ! 
Oh, that we two had never met, 

Since love could never last ! 
Once more I'd be a child again. 

As when you first met me ; 
Fair as a sunbeam in the rain, 

"Heart whole and fancy free." 

Though I regret the promise true. 

And you remember not. 
My heart still fondly beats for you 

"Who care not for my lot. 
The love I bore you lingers yet. 

Though now^ I long to be 
The maid I was before we met, 

"Heart whole and fancy free." 



A TRAVELING MAN 59 



PERHAPS. 

Perhaps if wealth had crowned thee 

With jewels rich and rare. 
Perhaps if robes of splendor 

Had graced thy form so fair, 
Perhaps, 0, just perhaps, dear, 

If I had come to woo ; 
You might have closed your lashes 

AVith an air of ''who are you?" 

Perhaps if maids had served thee 

With fruits and sparkling wine. 
Perhaps if all the smart set 

Had dubbed you "sweet and fine," 
Perhaps, O, just perhaps, dear. 

If I had told of bliss. 
You might have shook your ringlets 

And remarked, "why, what is this?' 

Perhaps if fame had blessed thee 

With flatteries of style. 
Perhaps if all the journals 

Had kept your name on file. 
Perhaps, 0, just perhaps, dear. 

Perhaps ! Ah, well, I know 
There 's no perhaps about it : 

You'd 'a' had another beau. 



60 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



WE HAVE NOT MET AS LOVERS MEET. 

We have not met as lovers meet, 

Though we have met as friends may do ; 
We have not sighed as low and sweet 

As lovers are accustomed to ; 
Yet we have met and parted more 

Than those who court the shady lane. 
But now^ those happy days are o'er, 

And we shall never meet again. 

When first beneath the pensive moon 

I saw you at your cottage door. 
I thought that I 'd forget you soon 

And think perchance of you no more, 
But time to me a light has shown 

A gem I did not caie to see, 
A soul which, day by clay, has grown, 

^lore sweet and i)recious unto me. 

So sweet, that now. I feel the smart 

This ])ar*ting to my soul has brought; 
So dear. 1 fear the change of heart, 

vSo dear. I loath the change of thought; 
But still fMrcwM^ll, since avc have met 

And still farewell, sincc^ we must part 
Too near fair Eden to forget — 

Not neai- enough to break the heart. 



A TRAVELING MAN 61 



MY LOVE FOR THEE. 

My love for thee, is more than love ; 

Breadth hath no bound, nor depth a base, 
Nor height a canopy above : 

My being breathes unending space. 

In dreams I knew thee ere we met; 

Now dreams are past and life is real. 
No power can teach me to forget 

The love I know, the touch I feel. 

Love, smile, and all my sorrows flee ; 

Weep, if you must, tears are divine. 
No change of mood can harrow me ; 

No virtue make thee more than mine. 

Time was with me as it is now. 
And ever will be but the same, 

A laurel weaved to fit thy brow, 

An endless song to praise thy name. 

My love for thee, thy love for me, 

Are wrought on God's great forge, as one 

With wings plummed for eternity, 
With lips to voice life's victory won. 



62 LEISURE MOMENTS OP 



THY LOVE FOR ME. 

Thy devotion to me 
Is like a miglit}^ sea, 
Whose waves caress the shore 
And seem to ask no more. 

Thy loyalty to me 
Is like a mighty tree, 
Whose leaves a shelter form 
And house me from the storm. 

Thy affection for me 

Is like a honey bee. 

Whose comb feeds when the rose 

Has fallen to repose. 

Thy love, thy love for me 
Is like a boundless lea, 
Whose harvest, rich and wide, 
Supplies the world beside. 



A TRAVELING MAN t)-J 



WHEN THE DREAM IS ENDED. 

Though life gives me only dreams. 

One sweet face to cheer me, 
One familiar form that seems 

So often to be near me. 
I still am grateful, since the break 

Can nevermore be mended ; 
But, 0, the chaos in the wake 

When the dream is ended. 

Though life offers only dreams. 

One caress to fold me, 
One sweet face that always beams 

With empty arms that hold me. 
All that life offers, I accept, 

Glad even shades are blended 
With all that was, though I have wept 

When the dream is ended. 

Though life takes away but dreams. 

All it takes is of me 
Flesh and blood that moving seems 

Clay to those who love me. 
Though life takes the hopes and fears 

In dreams I 've comprehended, 
The joy I know is w^orth the tears 

When the dream is ended. 



64 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



THE EXCEPTION. 



Take her, piece by piece, mother, 

Look ! so small and slender, 
Trembling at the lightest wind — 

Who could be more tender? 
Take her when the day is done, 

On her knee thanksgiving ; 
Grateful for the rest begun, 

From the strife in living. 

Take her mind, so richly blest, 

With dream music blending, 
Thinking only what is best. 

Ready for life's ending. 
Take her heart's low, timid beat, 

Not a note complaining. 
Could a virgin be more sweet 

In this world so staining? 

Take her eyes so kind and pure, • 

Tear bedimmed, yet dreaming ; 
Then ask why the stars endure 

In their luster beaming. 
Take her hands so small and white, 

Tender deeds contriving, 
Ccmstant, from the morn till night, 

For another striving. 

Take her, mother, as thine own, 

Her my hope assuring ; 
Coupled with thy heart alone, 

Love shall be enduring. 
Take her, mother, close to thee. 

Look! so small and slender, 
Smiling through a sea of tears — 

Where is one more tender? 



A TRAVELING MAN 65 



WHEN THIS DAY COMES AGAIN. 

Oh, let us then be thankful 

For the things just as they are ; 
For the moon that shines in beauty, 

For each twinkling little star ; 
For the sun that shines so brightly, 

For the clouds and for the rain : 
For you and I may not be here 

When this day comes again. 

Oh, let us then be thankful 

For the friends that love us best. 
For the home that gives us shelter. 

For the privilege of rest ; 
For the food so sweet to relish. 

For a body without pain ; 
For you and I may be ailing 

When this day comes again. 

Oh, let us then be thankful 

For the little things that pass ; 
For the water so refreshing. 

For the trees and for the grass ; 
For the flowers that bloom around us. 

For the birds and their refrain ; 
For you and I may be weary^ 

When this day comes again. 

Oh, let us then be thankful 
For a world so good and fair ; 

For a God that gives us plenty, 
For the good things everywhere : 

For the hope in something better- 
After tears have been in vain ; 

For some time we shall not be here 
When this day comes again. 



66 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



DEAR LOVE, I BELIEVE. 

Dear love, I believe thee. 
You shall not deceive me ; 
I know, though you leave me, 

You still will be true. 
Ah, thus do you grieve me 
And fondly bereave me. 
Yet absence shall weave me 

A love song of you. 

Deep seas shall divide us, 
Vast mountains shall hide us. 
But hope shall provide us 

In season 's of care ; 
Through all God shall guide us. 
And trust shall abide us. 
So farewell — beside us — 

Our souls are at prayer. 



A TRAVELING MAN 67 



MIDNIGHT TIDE. 

When the clock has struck eleven. 

With its ringing wild alarm, 
Don't you wish that it were seven. 

With her clinging to your ami? 
But it is another story, 

When your feet are cold, and wet — 
Don 't it make you mad, to hear her 

Softly whisper, ''Don't go yet." 

When the clock strikes tw^elve so loudly. 

That it fairly shakes your heart. 
And you say in softest accents, 

' ' It is really time to start. ' ' 
But it is another story. 

When your winsome pretty pet- 
Puts her little arms around you. 

Saying softly, ' ' Don 't go yet. ' ' 

One the clock strikes, all is silent ; 

Not a mouse is there astir. 
And she nods in peaceful slumber. 

While you sit and look at her. 
But it is another story 

Of the sleep that you will get ; 
You must stay and hear her whisper, 

' ' If you love me, don 't go yet. ' ' 

Time goes on, and two is striking. 

Be more patient, lover dear. 
There are many places for you. 

But the dearest place is here. 
Still there is another story; 

You must never once forget, 
There are some who have no sweetheart. 

Who will whisper, ''Don't go yet." 



68 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



THE RICH MAN'S DREAM. 

Stop, my fortune, stop ! 

You 're growing too fast for me : 
I can not count the heavy gold 

That piles so rapidly. 
At first, your ring was like the flow, 

Of silver bells that chime; 
] >ut "now each note is like the blow 

The guilt}^ feel for crime. 

Stop, my fortune, stop ! 

My tables rock and reel 
With milk and honey, fruit and wine — 

All mine for every meal. 
I see nine men with faces grim. 

Starved for the want of bread ; 
Their shadows fall like phantoms dim 

Across my table-spread. 

Stop, my fortune, stop ! 

My bed is like a nest ; 
Its feathers from earth's paradise 

Mock my unsleeping rest, 
AVhile nine men lie on earth's cold brink, 

Fatigued and weary-worn, 
I feel their breathing rise and sink 

Like flames of fieiy scorn. 

Stop, my fortune, stop ! 

My wardrobe's kept with care; 
Still, I but use one suit of clothes 

While I have loads to spare. 
I see nine men out in the street ; 

Their rags my frocks condemn ; 
Till I, too, feel the winds that beat 

So merciless on them. 



A TRAVELING MAN 6?^ 

Stop, my fortune, stop ! 

Life's meter is working wrong: 
I pay my doctor what would keep 

A thousand well and strong. 
While nine men have no means to bear 

Help to the dying child, 
Who haunts me with her choking stare 

Till my black soul goes wild. 

Stop, my fortune, stop ! 

I sink in muck of gold. 
In lucre made of stocks and bonds 

And flesh and blood untold. 
I can not use what nine men crave 

Out in that fearful throng, 
Whose needs my guilty soul might save, 

Could I my dream prolong. 



SPEAK KINDLY OF THE ABSENT ONE. 

Speak kindly of the absent one ; 

It is the wisest plan ; 
There's virtue in a plain defense 

Of almost every man. 

Speak gently of the absent one ; 

He can not self defend: 
Such charity to others shown 

Shall never want a friend. 

Speak softly of the absent one. 

As though his ears might hear; 
For brave's the man who dares oondetrni 

The absent one when near. 



LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



LONG AGO AND ONCE AGAIN. 

Yes, I was once a sleeping babe. 

Locked in my mother's arms, 
Locked in the fond embrace of love, 

And pure as angels far above. 
And guiltless as the guiltless are — 

I was the household pet and star 
Long ago. 

Would I were still that sleeping babe. 

Locked in that fort of love, 
In slumber on that mother's breast, 

In the sweet untroubled rest. 
Safe in the dearest place on earth. 

The throbbing bosom of my birth. 
Once again. 



A TRAVELING MAN 



I WOULD REST ME IN THE LIGHT. 

I would rest me in the light 

Of the quiet west. 
On the bosom of the night 

In eternal rest. 
There the morning 's light is dead, 

As my soul would be 
Lost in crimson on the bed 

Of eternity, 

Not to wake in boundless bliss 

Of the vast unknown. 
But to rest beneath a kiss 

In the grave alone. 
Though that kiss cannot be thine, 

Still thine was the last; 
And its pressure still is mine 

On my lips so fast. 

Thus while mem'ry still is green. 

And ere I forget. 
Ere the cold light comes between 

Or a shadow yet, 
I would rest me in the light 

Of the quiet west, 
On the bosom of the night 

In eternal rest. 



TO 



LEISURE MOMENTS OP 



THE WAY TO DO IT. 

Say just what you have to say ; 

Say your say, and say it. 
Reason has no time for play; 

Arguments delay it. 

Do just what you have to do ; 

Do your do, and do it. 
If there's aught that's dear to you. 

Hurry and pursue it. 

Go just where you have to go ; 

Go your go, and go it. 
Time is flying high and low, 

Ne'er can you resow it. 

Stand just where you have to stand 
Stand your stand, and stand it. 

Show the crowd your one demand 
Is but to command it. 

Keep just what you have to keep ; 

Keep your keep, and keep it. 
Let your vault be wide and deep. 

Lest 3^our folly leap it. 

Give just what you have to give : 
Give your give, and give it. 

Boast not of the gift, but live 
By the grace you give it. 

Say, or do, or go, or stand ; 

Keep, or give, but be "It." 
Always by your heart's command; 

Do as best you see it. 



A TRAVELING MAN 73 



GET RIGHT WITH GOD. 

Get right with God, and all the world will shine 
With light and love and all that is divine. 
The brook will sing as in your childhood days, 
And each small bird will carol for your praise ; 
The skies so deep their secrets will reveal, 
And each lone star will tell your soul to kneel ; 
The sun will shine with radiant delight, 
And the bright moon will court you through the 

night ; 
Nature will smile and heal the heart that's torn, 
And you will thank your God that ever you Avere 

born. 

Get right with God, and love will rise again 

With all the wealth of rapture and of gain : 

The friends long lost and those forsaken long 

Will eome again and linger with a song; 

The hate you feel, the malice and the fear, 

Like dew at davm, will softly disappear; 

Your smile so faint will spread like beams of light, 

Till those who weep will think the world more bright. 

Get right with God, and solace you dare give 

To those who do not know how sweet it is to live. 



74 LEISURE MOMENTS O:.' 



VIOLETS. 



Violet, sweet violet, 

Love, I love you true ; 
Green's the wood, I must forget 

Treaded oft by you 
Violets wild, wild before. 

Painted from your eyes; 
Violets your spirit bore 

Fresh from Paradise. 

Did we dream as we do now? 

Hope and beauty fade. 
Why, then, did I deck your brow 

When my soul forbade ? 
Love, you were a dream to me, 

Life a flower in May, 
More to my soul's destiny 

Than the narrow way. 

Violet, poor violet. 

Child of tenderness. 
Fonder hopes of life beset 

Your dream of happiness. 
Scarce I blame thy soul to rest. 

Still, can 3'ou be gay. 
With the red-blue on your breast, 

Turning unto gray? 



A TRAVELING MAN i ''J> 



FLOWERET OF BLUSHES. 

Floweret of bbisbes, 

Thou'rt bursting in bloom. 
Teacher of thrushes 

Thou'rt singing for whom? 
Oh, whisper the beating 
Thy heart is repeating 
So pealfully, 

Stealfully, over the scale. 
Light over the gamut. 

The echoes avail, 
Avail for the dearest. 
The loved and the nearest; 

floweret of blushes. 

The river that rushes, 

The brooklet that gushes. 
Is singing of thee. 
Is singing thy beauty, 
Thy heart and thy duty ; 

I've heard it in slumber, 

Ah, times without number. 

Oh, shall it prove sombre, 
Or sweet unto me? 

Lily of whiteness, 

Thou'rt blooming so fair; 
Being of lightness 

Thou'rt gardened with care. 
Thy petals are sprouting — 
No human is doubting, 
So sweetfully, 

Neatfully, scented and true, 
That poachers are ready 

To cite an ado, 



76 LEISURE MOMENTS OP 

To pluck thee, and claim thee, 
To wear thee, and name thee. 
lily of whiteness, 
The sun in its brightness, 
The fairies of lightness, 

Are guarding but thee ; 
And I from the thicket 
Am warding the wicked, 
That they in their madness. 
May not cause you sadness. 
love, in your gladness, 
Turn gently to me. 



THE PENALTIES. 

Thine is a patient love, 
Enduring much for me, 

Entreating, when I falter — 
A tear's the penalty. 

Thine is a changeless love, 
Enduring change in me, 

Yet steadfast as an anchor — 
A sigh's the penalty. 

Thine is a faithful love, 
Enduring scorn in me. 
Still as a fond forgiver — 
A smile's the penalty. 

Thine is a worthy love, 
Enduring all in me. 

Returning, good for evil — 
A kiss's the penalty. 



A TRAVELING MAN i i 



RING OUT THE OLD, RING IN THE NEW. 

Ring out the old, the old year still ring out ! 
Ring out its grief, its cares and woe ring out ! 
Ring out its gloom, its poverty and need, 
Ring out its crime, its malice and its greed! 
Ring out its barren paths that lead nowhere ; 
Ring out its idle hours, so long and bare ; 
Ring out its seas, so weary of the oar ; 
Ring out its soil, that yields the bloom no more ; 
Ring out its pain, its worries arid its trials ; 
Ring out its tears, but still prolong its smiles ; 
Prolong its hopes ; prolong its happy days ; 
Prolong its love ; prolong whatever pays. 

Ring in the new, the new year still ring in ! 
Ring in its hopes, its light and love ring in ! 
Ring in its grace, its charity and youth ; 
Ring in its faith, its earnestness and truth ! 
Ring in its untrod fields that stretch afar; 
Ring in its seeds that yearn to kiss a star; 
Ring in its seas so anxious for the sail : 
Ring in its hills that shelter every vale ! 
Ring in its God ! Ring loud, glad bells, ring in ! 
Ring in its Christ, who saves a world from sin ! 
Prolong your song, prolong celestial praise ; 
Prolong your love ; prolong the life that pays ! 



78 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



THE SILVER TOMBIGBEE. 

Up the silver Tombigbee 
Southern winds had wafted me. 
As the tide, my heart, was free, 

0, my fairy angel ! 
Lightly sailed by birch canoe 
On the waters deep and blue, 
Till your dream-boat came in view 

O. my fairy angel ! 

Would the tide would turn again : 
I might find the lost refrain. 
For I dream of thee in vain, 

0, my fairy angel ! 
Lost is all the peace I knew. 
Constant dreams revert to you. 
Nothing can my hope renew, 

O, my fairy angel ! 

ITp, up with the silver tide 

To the source so deep and wide. 

With a heart, but with no bride, 

0, my fairy angel ! 
There is still one l)alm for me, 
That my mind may feast on thee 
Through the long eternity, 

O. mv fairv nnge] ! 



A TRAVELING MAN 79 



ABSENCE. 



A melody of love-bells, 
A soft refrain 
From out of the silence 
Cheers me again; 

An anthem of gratitude, 
Since mine thou art, 

True in thy faithfulness, 
Near or apart; 

An ode of contenting trust, 

A sonnet for thee, 
Borne on the while between, 
Love, you and me. 

A hymn to the mighty space 

Twixt us tonight, 
Sung from thy soul to mine 

Till we unite. 



80 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



TWILIGHT DREAM. 

Go to thy window at sunset 
My love, when the day is low, 

Go to thy window at sunset, 

When the soft, sweet zephyrs blow. 

And list to the west-wind songlet, 
To the sound the angels know. 

Look back to the wooded inland, 
Where the last beams fade away, 

Look back to the dreary inland. 

Where the sky is tinged with gray, 

And think of him in the low land, 
Where the shadows darkly lay. 

Join the sunbeam with the moon beam, 
Let no shadow tAvixt them roll : 

Join the day-dream with the night-dream, 
In the annals of our scroll ; 

Let no thought beyond a love-dream 
Intervene thy soul, my soul. 

Look beyond the peaceful river, 

O my life, my soul, my love ! 
Look beyond the quiet river, 

Where the bright stars shine above, 
And remember e'en thy lover 

Knows what thou are dreaming of. 

Watch the purple join the darkness 

With the sinking of the sun; 
AVatch the west verge in the darkness 

When the dying day is done. 
With the brightness and the darkness 

Of the heart that you have won. 



A TRxiVELING MAN 81 

Then when all the world is silent, 
And the darkness steals the light, 

Breathe a prayer that reaches heaven 
To the glory of the night, 

And in silence hold communion 
With the love you deem is right. 



THE SHEPHERDESS. 

Look up ! My pretty shepherd lass, 

Forget the sheep now grazing. 
Forget all things that come to pass. 

And listen to my praising. 
There's life within thy sparkling e'e— 

Grace in thy queenly cover ; 
Thy charms both thrill, and envy me. 

Lest thou shouldst have a lover. 

There's music in the gentle stream, 

The past storm's benediction; 
Thy green hut is a palace dream 

To me, love's sweet conviction. 
Thy bleating lambs are guards divine, 

Which round the sheepfolds hover. 
Oh, would their ken alike were mine, 

I'd be a happy lover. 

The gentle kiss o' summer's breath 

Make me abhor my garret ; 
Oh, to return were worse than death. 

My soul could never bear it. 
So, shepherd o' the bonnie hills, 

Make me thy fellow-drover : 
I swear, by dells and woods and rills. 

To be a constant lover. 



h2 leisure moments op 



AWAY, FOND HEART. 

Away, fond heart, I hear the bell! 

The shipman's cry, aye! aye! 
One kiss, and then, dear love, farewell 

Until our bridal day. 

Away, fond ship, thy beaten deck 

Bosoms my soul tonight, 
May slumbers not upstir a wreck. 

Or conscience know affright. 

Away, fond sea, I turn to shore ; 

The bright waves speak to me ; 
Their whisperings bear my darling o'er 

And safely back to me. 

Away, fond world, I go to rest : 

Do not disturb my dream, 
But wake me when my heaving breast 

Is wept on by Maream. 



A TRAVELING MAN 83 



SHE IS LOST TO YOU, FOREVER. 

She is lost to you, forever, 

Lost as is the morning dew, 
Kissed by sunbeams into vapor 

Disappearing in the blue : 
Lost as is a raindrop sinking 

From its high and awful leap, 
Mingling with the mighty waters 

Of the dark and stormy deep. 

Lost as is a scroll of value, 

Doomed by fire's ruinous flame. 
Palling to the earth in ashes 

Leaving nothing but a name. 
Lost as is the rose of summer, 

Late^ withered on the wold, 
Bending to the winds of autumn, 

Dying on the barren cold. 

Lost as is the breath of mortal. 

Taking its eternal flight 
From the day of joy and gladness 

To the wJlderness of night. 
Lost, as is the voice's echo 

Sounding 'gainst the endless sky. 
Growing fainter in the distance. 

Nevermore to make reply. 

Lost ! for she has wed another, 

Lost! deep in another's care; 
Heaven's seal stamps its approval; 

Earth has witnessed them a pair. 
Lost, fond lover, lost forever ! 

Sad thy heart may be, and true : 
But all reason seems to whisper, 

"She was never meant for you." 



84 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



WE MAY NEVER MEET AGAIN. 

Farewell. Aurelia dear, farewell ! 

Meet, ah shall we ever? 
Time shall part us from all time 

If there is a never, 
Time shall meet us in a clime 

If there is forever. 

Here tonight in the belfry-tower, 
Shall time strike forever? 

Here tonight we part the hour — 
Meet, ah shall we ever? 

Time shall part us in a bower, 
Rain, is there a never? 

Tomorrow we shall beat the sun. 

Aye, a day forever; 
Time shall lay us gently down 

In the mould 'ring ever; 
You, and I shall meet again. 

Never? Oh, forever. 



A TRAVELING MAN S'J 



LOVE OF MY LOVE. 

Love from above, 

A flame of firej 
Love of my love, 

My soul's desire; 
Love for the star, 

A moth at sea ; 
Love, though afar, 

Longing for thee. 

Love from below, 

A snowflake v^hite ; 
Love, may I knov^^ 

You melt tonight? 
Love for the sky, 

A drop of rain ; 
Love, may I fly 

To thee again ? 

Love from your soul, 

A breath divine ; 
Love to control 

A heart like mine; 
Love for the love 

I give to thee ; 
Love from above 

That dvrells in me. 



^6 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



ULTRA MUNDANE. 



Twilight' and sunset 

And deeper shades for me 
Shall keep me in the peaceful glade 

Where I so long to be. 
Snnset and shadows 

And all that tends to make 
The world as Avhen you left it 

I love them for your sake. 

Zephyrs and mild-winds 

And mournful sounds for me 
Bring back the buried echoes 

That warbled once in thee. 
Calm seas, and white sails 

Bedim my weary eye, 
For, Love, you were an angel, 

A ship just passing by. 

Dead flowers and tresses, 

All that remains of thee, 
A faded scroU of treasured lore. 

And Love's sweet memory. 
Sunset and shadows 

And love's own evening star 
Make the world as when you left it. 

So you can not tarry far. 



A TRAVELING MAN 87 

THE CONSPIRATORS. 

(A change of couples.) 

I am not jealous of him, Love. 

Though you allowed his hand 
To press your own so tenderly, 

Yet I can understand. 

She is not jealous of you, Love, 
Though that sweet smile he wore 

Was imprudent for a stranger 
Who loves another more. 

But he is jealous of me. Love, 

Though I was sorely tried. 
For my heart the while was longing 

To have you by my side. 

And you are jealous of her, Love, 

Though her bewitching eyes 
Have only said, ''to win them more 

Is worth this sacrifice." 



88 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



THE YOKE OF BURDENS. 

Why do the tears come to my eyes 
In thinking thus of thee, my love? 

Thou art not yet in Paradise, 

Though thou wert framed to dwell above. 

A¥hy do the fears rise in my heart? 
Because I know thou art too fair 
To launch from out thy place of rest 
Into my sea of winding care. 

Why do the years stretched out before 
Seem less than what they ought to be? 

Because I fear your heart the more 
Will suffer, when I burden thee. 

Why do the tears rebuke the smiles 
That welcome thee e 'en now as mine ? 
Because I fear some day the trials 
That weigh on me shall all be thine. 



A TRAVELING MAN 89 



WHY DOTH LOVE MOVE. 

Why doth love move 

The human breast, 
That dares not make 

Its passion known? 
Long nights of wake, 

Devoid of rest. 
And days to live 

And walk alone ! 
Why doth love move 

A single heart, 
That finds defeat 

And solitude. 
Yet suffers well 

Though still apart, 
dream of life, not understood? 

Why doth love move 

The human breast, 
That finds response 

With eager breath, 
And ready hands 

To make him blest. 
And footsteps made 

E'en unto death? 
Why doth love move 

Two hearts as one, 
Two lives to live 

One attitude, 
A changeless dream 

Ti^] time is run, 
O truth of life, not understood? 



90 LEISURE MOMENTS OF 



HOW STRANGELY SAD I FEEL TONIGHT. 

How strangely sad I feel tonight-! 

And, yet, I have no cause to be. 
No sorrow storms my inward breast : 

All that I know is harmony, 
Save for the rest, save for the rest. 

The rest? Forgive ^f here I fail; 

My beating heart scarce knows its own. 
The rest ? What can that remnant mean ? 

And who can know, least I alone, 
What rolls between, what rol^s between? 

What rolls between, betwixt, aye, what? 

Between that peace I do not know, 
Between what was, and is to be 

The rest of Avhich I wonder so? 
This conquers me, this conquers me. 

And conquered, in the rock-bound cave, 
AVhere hies the troubled soul from view, 

In quiet, where the heart and soul 

May wrestle with the combat through, 

I mourn the whole, I mourn the whole. 

Yet, baffled by the deeper cause. 

As babes who trust the mother-breast, 

I lay me down to slumbers light 

And leave to Him who knows the rest 

Wherefore mv heart is sad tonight. 



A TRAVELING MAN 91 

I KNOW THAT IT IS WRONG, THIS WISH. 



I know that it is wrong, this wish, 
But, oh, I do so long for sleep. 

Now since all that to me is dear, 
All that of life I held more deep, 

Lies buried here, lies buried here. 

I know the gay world stil] moves on, 
But, oh, why must the weary one ? 

Yet weariness to me were bliss 
If where thou art I could be won 

Away from this, away from this. 

I know t'he cold sod wraps thee now, 
But, oh, why came the day so soon? 

Why were it not as I could bear : 
Thou here, or I within thy tomb, 

As peaceful there, as peaceful there. 

I know the day sometime shall come. 
But, oh, 'tis now I long for rest, 

'Tis now my heart-pulses implore ; 
They can not beat but from thy breast. 

Yet shall no more, yet shall no more. 

1 know that it is wrong, this wish. 
But, oh, can mortal-mind refrain? 

Though well I know that thou art free. 
Were it a sin to wish again 

To be with thee, to be with thee? 



92 LEISURE MOMENTS OP 



LULLABY OF A DYING MOTHER. 

Soft and low, soft and low, 
Blow gently, blow, winds, blow. 
Hush, my baby, all is right; 
There will be no storm tonight — 

Blow, winds, softly, blow, winds, blow. 

Soft and low, soft and low. 
Blow gently, blow, winds, blow. 
Ere my dying breath depart. 
Rest thee closer to my heart — 
Blow, winds, softly, blow, winds, blow. 

Soft and low, soft and low. 
Blow gently, blow, winds, blow. 
Baby's dearest place on earth 
Is the bosom of its birth — 

Blow, winds, softly, blow, winds, blow. 

Soft and low, soft and low, 
Blow gently, blow, winds, blow. 
Sweet, my babe, I weep for thee ; 
Storms shall soon enrage the sea — 
Blow, winds, softly, blow, winds, blow. 

Soft and low, soft and low. 
Blow gently, blow, winds, blow. 
Though your day be dark or bright, 
Kiss, my babe, we part tonight — 

Blow, winds, softly, blow, winds, blow. 



A TRAVELING MAN 9o 



0, TO BE PERFECTLY SURE. 

O, to be perfectly sure, 

To know that the day will return 
When your blushes so tender and pure 

Will again in ecstasy burn. 
The assurance would rush me along 

And lighten my heavy old grip, 
And the knocks that I think are all wrong 

Would be blessings along the whole trip. 

O, to be perfectly sure, 

To know beyond doubt that my prayer 
Must be heard above cottage and moor, 

By the Master who knoweth our care : 
I would take to the road wdth a will — 

Unmindful of where it might be — 
If I knew it were possible still 

To expect a sweet welcome from thee. 



94 LEIiSURE MOMENTS OP 



ON THE IROQUOIS THEATRE REOPENING. 

J^e it what time of day or eventide, 

Amidst the busy throng my heart has sighed, 

Iroquois, for thee. I pass thy door 

As one in dreams that shall awake no more. 
Time doth erase some things, but here I stand. 
As on that night, one grain of human sand 
Swept on and on. I saw thy fallen lie 
By hundreds 'round, heaped up like logs; thy cry 
Of death was loud, and deep thine agony. 

1 pass thy door, and still in mem'ry see 
The guileless babe, dead in its mother's arm. 
The aged sire, and youth that feared no harm. 
And maiden fair — all lying cold in death. 

The sorrow's mine, and with each going breath 

1 still condemn — condemning, still forgive 

Those all to blame, while they a life will live 

Marked for disgrace and deep self-conscious pain. 

The lesson learned has left a lasting stain 

Time cannot blot. Our sole redemption lies 

In thy closed doors, where decency decries 

The morbid eye. O city, still our pride. 

Shall this thy great reproach be brushed aside ? 

Shall fiends incarnate hold their jubilee 

O'er charnel tombs in wild frivolity? 

Shall e'en the laugh of hell make sport of tears, 

And mimic-fools raise bedlam with their jeers 

Amongst the groans that rend the very grave? 

And shall burlesque here taunt the living brave 

Who mourn their dead? Or shall some nobler cause 

On that facade be stamped, where men may pause 

With due respect? How shall the right be done? 

How shall the race with infamy be run? 

By means that keep support from its Red door. 

And we, ourselves, there entering no more. 

('hicago. 



A TRAVELING MAN 95 



"WHISKEY, THAT'S ALL." 

All? Why, no, there's a great deal more: 
There's an arm that's weak and a head that's sore; 
There 's a home that is filled with grief and woe, 
And a wife that's felled with a savage blow. 
All"? Why, no, there's a job that's lost; 
There's an empty purse that can meet no cost; 
There's a watch to pawn and a chair to sell; 
There's money to borrow and a thirst to quell; 
There's an empty glass and a fight or two. 
And a fine to pay for an eye that's blue. 
All? Why, no, there's a demon's curse; 
There's a child to kick and a wound to nurse; 
There's a home to break and a wife to scrub; 
And the song of her life is rub, rub, rub ; 
There's a free-lunch served in a sample-room. 
And some chores to do with a rag or broom ; 
There's the price to beg for a burning drink. 
And a place to sleep where drunkards sink. 
All? Why, no, there is half untold; 
There's a heart grown sick and limbs grown cold 
There's a manhood gone and a substitute 
That is half a fiend and half a brute ; 
There's a place to rob and a man to kill ; 
There 's a prison-cell for a man to fill ; 
There's conscience seared with wild remorse. 
For the bright red drink has an awful course ; 
There's a speedy trial, and a verdict read, 
And a wife that weeps as the doom is said ; 
There's a curse and a prayer, while the gallows fall 
And as for your whiskey, why. ''that's all." 



96 LEISURE MOMENTS OP 



"LADIES' ENTRANCE. " 

"Ladies' Entrance." Ah, yes, you've all seen the sign. 
It leads to the chamber of whiskey and wine ; 
It leads to the room with the little closed door 
From which there's no exit for purity more. 
An hour for a song, and another for drink. 
And some mother's girl is beginning to sink. 

' ' Ladies ' Entrance ! " Of course 'tis the side door. too. 
For shame never cared to be open to view. 
They slip and they trip in their haste to get in. 
Lest some one might see they are sporting with sin. 
Hut once in the bulwark the virgin takes flight. 
And the soul that was pure grows black as the night. 
The shadows are falling; there's no escort now 
Save strangers that drink to the curl on her brow. 
Home, mother and honor are lost in the whirl. 
And the river of vice claims some mother's girl. 

''Ladies' Entrance." Ah, yes, now boldly they go 
Through the little dark passage so bitter with woe. 
(■orrupt in their morals and deep in disgrace 
They blush not to enter, nor falter a pace. 
Half dead to life's meaning, half dead to its care. 
They drift through wild pleasure right into despair. 

' ' Ladies ' Entrance. ' ' To where '! Ah, finish the sign ! 

Mark plainly the rest, to the end of the line; 

To the serpent that charms, and passions that rave. 

To torment that plunges one into the grave. 

If dead lips could speak, and if live tongues would tell. 

The sign would read on : ' ' Ladies ' Entrance to Hell. ' ' 



A TRAVELING MAN 97 



''WORKINGMEN'S EXCHANGE." 

"Workmen's Exchange." The sign over the door 

Of the foul smelling place shall attract me no more; 

For down in my heart, while sober one day, 

1 figured out all I had bartered away. 

And just what exchanges go over the bar 

To make us poor drunkards as low as we are. 

I found for a drink I had given my purse, 

And for many a smile I was given a curse. 

For the friends I brought in I w^as left all alone, 

For the w^ork I had done I was given a bone. 

I got the bartender his job; as for mine? — 

I lost it while drinking his whiskey and wine. 

"Workmen's Exchange!" Exchange? Ah, I thought. 
What did I have for the stuff I had bought? 
He's a beer-palace prince, while I'm but a bum; 
His home's on the hill, and mine's in the slum, 
His wife knows the joys of a robin in May, 
While mine drudges on through the wearisome day ; 
His child is well fed and quite rosy and sweet 
While my starving Nellie has little to eat; 
Ah, yes, we exchange — the best for the worst; 
A kingdom of love for a slavery to thirst; 
Sweet freedom for bondage and silver for dross ; 
A crown of success for life's failure and loss. 

I've figured it out it's not money for drink 
That crosses the bar when the red glasses clink 
But it's heaven for hell, and it's not very strange 
For the devil is boss at the ' ' Workmen 's Exchange ! ' ' 



98 LEISlIfiE MOMENTS OF 



A FAMOUS CITY. 

''The beer that made Milwaukee famous." fame 
For which her noble sons would blush with shame. 
If beer her legends told. Tear down the lie. 
And rise, Milwaukee, rise and make reply. 

Show your metropolis in light more fair, 
Show where your handiwork few can compare. 
Blot out the lying words, tear down the sign. 
Lift up an emblem, your graces refine. 

Show that all beer is beer, label or cork. 
Kibbon or brand, beer is beer in New York ; 

Beer's beer in a keg, and beer's beer in a can. 

No matter if made away off in Japan. 

So tear down the sign, Milwaukee, your beer 
Is as bad as the worst that causes a sneer. 
It's as bad as the worst that goes to the head. 
And makes a man wish that he really were dead; 

It's as bad as the beer that's taken the coin. 
Which should have bought bread, and butti^r and 
loin ; 

It's as bad as the beer that causes a fight. 

From a sot that is out on a drunk for the night. 

Then rise, city rise. Milwaukee, your fame. 

Should be found in the towers that cherish your name. 

In the parks and the bay where your beauties 
abound. 

And your harbor as safe as ever was found ; 

And your men, who respond to charity's call. 

Are things that have made you most famous of all. 
So tear down the maudlin, the frivolous lie. 
That cheapens your worth and vexes the eye. 

And raise up a banner the sober may cheer, 

Milwaukee forever, but never for beer. 



A TRAVELING MAN 99 



ZION CITY FIFTY YEARS FROM NOW. 

f walked in dreams adown a filthy town 
And there beheld much sin ; I saw the frown 
Of hate, the lip of scorn, and heard the flow 
Of blasphemy; the atmosphere hung low, 
Made dense by fumes of rum, and each saloon 
Did merry make. I followed one wild tune 
Into a gambler's den run open wide. 
Where two police lay slumbering outside. 
And there amidst a gorgeous scene tliere snt 
Women in silk, jewel-bedecked and fat 
From indolence; young men around them leered 
In sottish glee; the place was such I feared 
My safety there. Chips rang, and each device 
Of hdlish cheat drew like the loaded dice 
Its tainted gold. I w^atched, for I was lost. 
Weary of limb, a stranger, and the cost 
Was but my time. I marveled, for I'd read 
How fifty years ago, that here, instead. 
Did virtue rule; rum houses were unknown; 
Glory and peace and Christ were here alone. 
The streets were tranquil then, and on this spot 
A tabernacle stood; but now there's not 
One church in all the town ; a leader then 
Proclaimed himself Elijah to all men. 
He had a following, and, robed in white. 
He built this town and walled it from the night. 
His name I do not know, but could he rise 
And view this little hell, methinks his eyes 
Would moisten some, or surely his conceit 
Mowfed down by evidence would be less sweet. 
Prophets have gone, and prophets still will come : 
He went his way, and all his works are dumb ; 
So ends rapacity. The truly great 
Build not on sand. No man can depurate 
Society. Well done the work that guides 



100 I.KIsrKE MOMENTS OF 

One soul from self; God's coloi\y abides 
In the beyond, but here, ah, erudition 
Once falsely taught, brought this town to perdi- 
tion. 



0, BLASPHEMY. 

O blasphemy, what vain impious wretch. 
Through thee, with words polluted, hoped to stretch 
His argument, but found that in the light. 
Kind words have weight, and gentle words have 
might! 



A TRAVELING MAN 101 



THE LIAR. 

Of all the sins contemptible that mar 

The unknown tenor of a day that's far, 

A lie, that shield through which the truth must pass, 

Is far the worst. True, other crimes surpass 

In fiendishness and cowardly deceit, 

But none more harm ourselves. Delusion's cheat 

In mockery returns, and truth laid bare 

Fears to renew its faith lest in the snare 

Of empty words it be betrayed again. 

O guilty lips, hypocrisy thy bane; 

O trembling hands, annihilating trust ; 

O shifting eyes, evading all the just ; 

AVhat plagues of torment move your quiet rest 

When in your chamber closed the heart is best! 

How move the phantoms of remorse ; how shame 

Hangs low its head and loathes your very name! 

O self-accused, murderer of confidence, 
Thief of thine hope, where is thy recompense? 
Glad days of credit gone, with debts unpaid 
Further from paying now than when first made. 
Small rivers lead to where the waters roar. 
And ships that pass that way return no more. 
So W'ith the lie you give ; white as the snow 
Rolls on, and with each turn more large doth grow, 
Till, hurled with mighty force, the mask is torn. 
Truth's sunlight melts and shows the man of scorn. 
Abject and vile he lies, or, groping low. 
Dodges the friends that loved him long ago. 
Shunning and shunned, a liar branded ''lost," 
Whose rating for service is less than cost. 
Rave, judgments, then, this fool has no amends. 
''One's life is ended here when honor ends." 



102 LEISURE MOMENTS OP 



Mr. Allstorm, in liis speech before the Coca-Cola con- 
vention, held in Atlanta, Ca., last December, said in 
part : 

I believe I am in a position to know Texas as few 
other men know it. I have covered 10,000 miles of this 
empire without leaving its borders. From (iainesville to 
the north, bordering at Oklahoma, it will take you ;i 
day and a night of continuous tia\el to reach Browns 
ville on the Rio (iSrande. and the shores of old Mexico, 
the land of Manana. and bull fights. From Galveston, or 
Corpus Christi, on the Gulf, which lie to the east, it 
will take you a day and two iiiglits to reach El Paso, 
the beautiful city at the i)ase of the liockies. If you 
were to attempt to encircle the state, it would take you 
some thi-ee days and three nights to complete your jour- 
ney. Truly, this is an empire! We lui\e 24(5 counties, 
many of them as large as some of the smaller of the 
Eastern states. There is nothing that grows that can 
not be raised in Texas. We supply one-fourth of the 
cotton of the world. We raise every kind of fruit, every 
kind of vegetable, and as soon as our railroads permit, 
we will be able to ship fruit to the l^astern markets six 
weeks in advance of California. 

Great men come to oui- hunting <:roiin(ls. There is 
W illiani -lennings Bryan, for instance, and oui- own Ite- 
loved Mr. Dobbs. Of course, 1 am always there. 1 can 
tell you where the deer is wont to roam, and the bear, 
and the wildcat. 1 have seen the coyote and the anti'- 
lope. One trip of mine takes me 120 miles by automo- 
bile, from Torrence to Carlsbad, N. M.. but the railroads 
have spoiled this trip for me. 1 now make the trip by 
rail. It's a sliame. The ranches are ])assing away, towns 
are springing up eveiywheie. Texas is no longer a 
wilderness. 

We have six great cities that have close on to 100,000 
inhabitants each. We have a hundred or more towns of 



A TRAVELING MAN lUS 



between oUOO aii<l 10,000 soiiU. and still we lune looiu 

for more. Millions of acres lie waiting for the hoe and 
the plow. There are cities still to be built, dreams stili 
to be reali/.cd. Are you tired of your native state? Come 
to Texas! Are you weary of the old fauiiliar scenes? 
Come to Texas ! Do you long for the endless plains, for 
the mountains and the rivers? Come to Texas! Do you 
long for friends, come where there are no strangers. 
\\ here every man is your friend, and every friend your 
brother. Texas is paradise regained. Our climate is un- 
surpassed in its delight. The soft winds from the Gulf 
at night sweep like a benediction ovci- a hot and thirsty 
day. I'heie is no winter there, only a discontented day 
just now and then. God made Texas as it is. that man 
m'ght have a foretaste here of the gloiies that lie l»e- 
\-ond '^he veil of this life. 



